


it was so far to fall (but it didn’t hurt at all)

by shadowsinwinter



Category: Pitch Perfect
Genre: F/F, Kinda Fluffy, PP2 AU, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsinwinter/pseuds/shadowsinwinter
Summary: “When we get angry at you, Beca, we love you a little less.”Beca’s messed up view on love had to come fromsomewhere, right? (Here’s a hint: it came from the parent who walked out on her and left her behind.)





	it was so far to fall (but it didn’t hurt at all)

**Author's Note:**

> am i satisfied with how this turned out? not 100%. am i going to publish it anyway? heck yeah, who knows when is the next time i'll have time to write something that isn't about the intricacies of victorian-era london?

_The girl living across the street has a new puppy._

_Beca doesn’t talk to her because she’s thirteen and popular and_ gorgeous _and seven-year-old Beca’s kind of a midget compared to her, but she sits at her window and watches as her neighbour brings her new puppy out for walks every evening. She chews on her knuckle and grins when the tiny brown Lab potters around their neighbourhood on its short stubby legs, and makes up her mind._

_She wants her own puppy, too._

_So she presents her case to her parents that night over a dinner of pasta and meatballs, earnestly promising to take it out for its walks and clean up after it and feed it every day, and it comes as a genuine shock when her parents frown at her and say No._

_“But – ” Beca’s_ hurt _by their near-instantaneous rejection, and opens her mouth to argue, but her father rests his hand on hers and stops her before she can go any further._

_“Not yet, kiddo,” he tells her, his voice low and steady as he glances up at her mother, and Beca sees her nod her head in quiet agreement. “You’re not old enough, or responsible enough for such a huge thing, okay? Just wait for a little while, maybe in a few years, we will let you adopt one.”_

_Beca scowls, because she’s seven now, and definitely old and Responsible enough (whatever that word means) to take care of a puppy – besides, she doesn’t want a dog in a few years, she wants one_ now _._

_And she’s nothing if not stubborn, so she spends the next few days cajoling, then begging, before resorting to crying and whining, expecting them to crumble soon as they usually do._

_But what Beca doesn’t expect her dad to sit her down in the living room mid-temper tantrum one evening, his face red and frowning, and shrinks back against the couch cushions. She hates it when he gets Angry, because that usually means that she gets shouted at and sent to time-out. He doesn’t_ sound _angry when he finally sucks in a huge breath and speaks though, so she relaxes slightly, uncurling herself from the pillow that she’s been clutching to with tightly clenched fists._

_“Beca, kiddo,” he begins, staring down at her with tern, disappointed eyes, and she squirms under the weight of his disapproval. “We’ve been very patient with you, but now you’re just making your mommy and I very angry.”_

_“M’sorry,” she mumbles, though her words get lost somewhere against the smooth velvet surface of the pillowcase that she’s pressed against her face. “Sorry, dad.”_

_He carries on, as though he hasn’t heard her speak at all. “Do you know what happens when we get angry, kiddo?”_

_Beca buries her face against the pillow again, chewing against the corner, and shakes her head once._

_“When we get angry at you, Beca, we love you a little less.”_

_She pauses mid-chew, a cold wave of fear settling thickly into the pit of her stomach – she opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again._

‘When we get angry, we love you a little less.’

_Love you a little less._

_The words bounce within her head for the rest of her night, and for the first time in her life, she finds herself second-guessing everything her parents do that night – did mommy close the bedroom door without turning back because she loves Beca a little less? Did her dad forget to leave the hall light on,_ again _, because he loves her less, now?_

_She stops asking for anything again._

_When he finally leaves six months later, she doesn’t believe her mom when she insists that it’s not Beca’s fault. She presses her face to the window, watching as his headlights disappear into the distance, and even though she’s trying her very hardest to not think about it, she knows that he left because she made him angry._

_She wasn’t a good girl and she made him angry._

_And he doesn’t love her anymore._

* * *

In all her three – almost four years of knowing Chloe Beale, Beca has never seen the redhead _angry_. Frustrated, upset, and overworked, maybe, but she’s never seen her girlfriend in all her furious glory – red-faced and scowling, her bright blue eyes harsh and filled with rage (instead of the soft adoration that she’s allowed herself to grow used to), glaring right at her.

Honestly, if she isn’t _fearing_ for her life right now, Beca would say that she’s more than a little turned on, because angry Chloe is actually kind of _hot_.

And then Chloe steps forward, stabbing her finger accusingly into Beca’s chest, it knocks her backwards a couple of steps and back into reality, and she shrinks into herself a little. They’ve never fought like this before – of course they’ve had the occasional arguments and friendly bickers that cooled down quickly enough, especially ever since they started dating the summer after Beca’s junior year, but they’ve never ended up fighting so badly.

They’ve never, _ever_ ended up _screaming_ right into each other’s faces like this.

It starts with something small, the careless, accidental revealing of a secret Beca never meant to tell, before it rapidly evolves into Chloe picking on her commitment to the Bellas (or lack thereof), and the next thing she knows, she’s shouting something back – she’s not sure _what,_ exactly, but the hurt that flashes through the redhead’s eyes stops her right in her tracks and douses any remaining anger within her at once.

_Fuck_ , she thinks.

It scares her, how this disagreement-turned-argument had spiralled out of their control so rapidly – and then she panics, because she’s just _knows_ what’s going to happen next. Chloe’s going to get sick of putting up with her and leave, and even though they’ve been dating for less than a year, she doesn’t think that she can survive when that happens.

Later, when they’ve all cooled down and talked it out, Beca will realise that what happens next isn’t one of her brightest ideas, but in the heat of her moment, her brain is _screaming_ at her to turn, to _go_ , to bail out before Chloe can.

She listens because she thinks – no, she _knows_ that watching Chloe walk away from her instead would _kill_ her.

She runs.

But she doesn’t get far because the next thing she knows, she’s dangling up in the air, tangled in what she’s sure is a _death trap_ , and Chloe’s just standing there and _gloating –_ and well, maybe she should’ve heeded the warning shouts, but that still stings, okay, especially because Chloe _knows_ that she doesn’t do very well with heights. That cold wave of fear settles over her skin like an unwanted, unwelcome old friend, and she wonders –

She wonders if she’s watching their relationship unravel, right there before her eyes.

* * *

“What’s wrong?”

Beca doesn’t – she _can’t_ reply.

The campfire had died down a little while ago, and the Bellas have all wandered back to their tent soon after, for once, understanding Beca and Chloe’s need for privacy. Beca’s leaning against the log, her eyes studying the flickering of the softly glowing embers – she’s afraid of what she’d see if she meets Chloe’s gaze, afraid of the hurt and the rejection she knows she’s sure to find there; she refuses to turn, even when she senses her girlfriend settle herself down beside her and speak.

“Beca,” Chloe tries again, her voice soft and warm, and Beca’s heart cracks a little bit more, knowing that this might be one of the last times that Chloe speaks to her like this ever again. “Becs, sweetie, you’ve been jumpy and distant all night, talk to me, _please_. What’s wrong?”

_When we get angry at you, we love you a little less._

The old memory flashes through her mind unbidden, and even after all these years, it _stings_ as much as the day her father sat her down and told her that. She curls up into herself a little tighter, _fuck,_ she can’t picture a future without Chloe around – without Chloe being there to comfort her. To _love_ her.

A quiet sob wrenches its way out of her chest, and she buries her face against the crook of her elbow, trying desperately to hide her tears.

“Beca?”

She stiffens when Chloe reaches out to touch her shoulder gently before pulling her closer, but then the redhead starts combing her fingers through her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple as she does so, and Beca can’t help it – she _melts_ into the embrace, turning to nuzzle into Chloe’s side, not caring that she’s leaving damp tear-streaks against her shirt.

“Are you still angry at me?”

And she waits, with bated breath, for Chloe to reply.

“A little bit, maybe,” Chloe tells her tiredly, and the soul-crushing despair returns in full force. “Becs, I’m your _girlfriend_ , you shouldn’t have lied to us – to _me_ for so long.”

Another beat of silence, before Beca manages to work up the question that she’s been fretting and panicking over all evening.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What – Beca – _No!_ ” She pulls away to stare at Beca, wide-eyed, and if Beca had been looking, she would’ve seen an almost-comical mix of horror and bewilderment pass over Chloe’s face. “Becs, I’m not going _anywhere._ ”

Her voice softens, and she reaches up to cup Beca’s cheek gently, tilting her face up so that their eyes meet. “Is that what you’ve been worrying your pretty little mind about all evening?”

Beca can feel her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and she drops her gaze, giving Chloe a tiny nod. “My dad, when I was really young, he – he…”

The words are pouring out before she can stop them, tumbling over each other in their hurry to spill off her chest, and _oh, Chloe,_ her sweet, wonderful Chloe isn’t staring at her with judgement or rejection in her eyes – instead, she’s being pulled into the tightest hug she’s ever found herself in; Beca relaxes completely, going limp in her girlfriend’s arms, and for the first time in a long while, lets herself _cry_.

She can hear Chloe murmuring to her, quiet and soothing, and huffs out a wet, shaky laugh. “God, I’m such a _mess_ , how can you even love _me_?”

Chloe’s fingers still for a moment. “Don’t say that.”

She hears Chloe heave a quiet sigh.

“Becs, I don’t love you even though you’re a mess, I love you _because_ you’re _my_ mess.” She pauses to drop another gentle to the top of her head, and the tenderness in her eyes just makes Beca feel like crying again, because _wow_ , what did she ever do to deserve someone like Chloe? “I don’t love you less whenever you fuck up and make mistakes – I love you _more_ because of them, because they’re your mistakes, and they make you, well, _you_.”

“Even when I make you angry when I do something stupid like lie to you even though I shouldn’t have?”

Her girlfriend lets out a tiny giggle, Beca lights up at the sound immediately and reaches out to lace their fingers together, gratified when she feels a quick squeeze of her hand in return.

“Even that,” and Beca squirms around on the hard ground until she finds herself in Chloe’s lap, and tucks her head into the redhead’s neck. “Becs, I may get angry at you for a little while, but I love you _forever_ , okay?”

She can hear Chloe’s heartbeat, comforting and steady against her ear, and it’s lulling her to sleep a little – she has to stifle a yawn when she murmurs, “Forever? That’s like, a pretty long time, dude.”

 The redhead laughs. “Well, yeah, and I plan to be with you for all of it.”

There’s a lump in the back of her throat that’s making it hard to force her words out, so Beca doesn’t reply – instead, she nuzzles further against Chloe, and she thinks that Chloe understands her even without speaking (because Chloe is amazing that way). She feels the arms around her waist tighten ever-so-slightly while they sit there, content and safe and _happy_ as they doze off in the middle of watching the sky fade into gold.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated, and thanks for reading :)


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